Dab Kinzer eBook

He was strongly assured that his young white associates
were in sober earnest about both their purpose and
their promise; and, after that, he insisted on rowing
all the distance home.

On the way the old punt was taken in tow; but the
tide had already swept it so far inside the mouth
of the inlet, that there was less trouble in pulling
it the rest of the way. It was hardly worth the
labor, but Dab knew what a tempest the loss of it
might bring around the ears of poor Dick.

When they reached the landing, and began to over-haul
their very brilliant “catch,” Dabney said,—­

“Now, Dick, take your string home, leave that
basket of crabs at Mr. Foster’s, and then come
back with the basket, and carry the rest of ’em
to our house. Ford and I’ll see to the rest
of the fish.”

“I haven’t caught half as many as you
have, either of you,” said Ford, when he saw
with what even-handed justice the fish were divided
in three piles, as they were scooped out of the fish-car.

“What of that?” replied Dab. “We
follow fishermen’s rules, down this way.
Share and share alike, you know. All the luck
is outside the boat, they say. Once the fish
are landed, your luck’s as good as mine.”

“Do they always follow that rule?”

“The man that broke it wouldn’t find company
very easily, hereabouts, next time he wanted to go
a-fishing. No, nor for any thing else. Nobody’d
boat with him.”

“Oh, some of yours are right good ones!
Your string’d look big enough, some days, just
as you caught ’em.”

“Would it?”

“Yes, it would. Don’t you imagine
we can pull ’em in every time like we did this
morning,—­crabs nor fish.”

“No, I s’pose not. Anyhow, I’ve
learned some things.”

“I guess likely. We’ll go for some
more next week. Now for a tug.”

“Ain’t they heavy, though!”

The boat had already been made fast; and the two boys
picked up their strings of fish, two for each, after
Dick Lee had started for home; and heavy things they
were to carry under that hot sun.

“Come and show the whole lot to my mother,”
said Ford, “before you take yours into the house.
I’d like to have her see them all.”

“All right,” replied Dab, but he little
dreamed what was coming; for, when he and Ford marched
proudly into the sitting-room with their finny prizes,
Dabney found himself face to face with, not good, sweet-voiced
Mrs. Foster, but, as he thought, the most beautiful
young lady he had ever seen.

Ford Foster shouted, “Annie! You here?
Well, I never!”

But Dab Kinzer wished all those fish safely back again
swimming in the bay.

CHAPTER IX.

THERE ARE DIFFERENT KINDS OF BOYS.

Ham Morris was a thoughtful and kind-hearted fellow,
beyond a doubt; and he was likely to be a valuable
friend for a growing boy like Dab Kinzer. It
is not everybody’s brother-in-law who would find
time during his wedding-trip to hunt up even so pretty
a New-England village as Grantley, and inquire into
questions of board and lodging and schooling.